Goodbye My Friend
by Shadowxwolf
Summary: The deaths of Riders from the points of view of their horses. Not much more to say apart from R&R please
1. Condor

Ok, so this has been in my head for a while now. For all that Rider horses are meant to be special, not that much notice is taken of them. So what are Condor's feelings at his Rider's death? If people like this, I might do some other situations. Please review and tell me what you think.

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All was quiet on the road. It was just us, my companion and me. I trod carefully on the fallen pine needles, aware of our need of concealment. Every nerve was tuned to the smallest sound. My companion was keeping us cloaked with his gift, but I doubted that could hide us from the man on the grey stallion. Well, he looked like a man. He didn't smell like one though. He smelled like rotting wood, like a once beautiful forest tainted by some disease. That two-legs was evil.

My man's gift pulled a rug over my eyes. I could see nothing except in shades of dull grey, and it made my head prance and play tricks.

A twig snapped somewhere. Far away, but audible enough to me. I knew my companion hadn't heard it. His tense body, nervous and dripping with sweat, was still intent of the road ahead. With a feeling of dread I sensed a hunter coming closer. Stealthy like a plains cat, dangerous like an angered drunkard. I couldn't hear it, but I knew it was there. Then, overlaid with our own stench of sweat and fear, that rancid stink of rotting green things, that tainted forest smell. I took no chances. I ran.

My companion was ready. He knew me from the marrow, and my responses were as natural as his own. We fled together, crashing through the underbru.sh. It didn't matter that we could be heard now. The grey one was after us, so I ran fast.

Oh, Patron give me wings! They were gaining on us, closing fast, like a wolf on a sick deer. The grey one must not take my companion. He gave me my head, trusting me completely, and that trust only urged me faster. I would not give up my man to this other one who smelled of dead things. The barest hint of a bellowed challenge passed my lips as I forced my body to work harder. You shall not have him!

I swerved and dodged, leapt and galloped on. In our mad flight, I had forgotten the way, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered except escape. But his arrows. They were close enough to whisper their songs of treachery to me. I heard them even above the sobbing of my breath and the pounding of my hooves through the leaf litter. They said I would fail. That it was pointless. That I shouldn't waste my energy on a helpless cause. My companion was dead already. Those voices were so beautiful, I first thought to listen to them, and I slowed. Then the grey one entered my vision, bright as the moon on a cloudy night, and fear swelled my heart. Treachery! Shut out the voices! Do not let them find their mark! I ran still faster.

But the grey stallion kept pace, no matter how I dived and swerved in our direction. I chose the most difficult path, but always he was there just behind me, following with ease through what I struggled to clear. My man was whispering courage in my ear. It was cut short with an arrow twang and a gasp of pain. Our cloak dropped and I smelled blood. My companion had been struck!

Some part of me wanted to turn there and fight, to feel my hooves crack bone and to smell the blood of the dead tree man congealing at my feet. But I knew I could not. My man still clung to life, if faintly, even though the arrow tugged at him, and I would not fail him if it cost me my life.

Another twang, and a hiss as air escaped his lips. I plunged on, desperate for a rest, but running as though the seasons would stop at winter if I didn't. The grey one had dropped behind us, had stopped running, but I hardly knew or cared. My man was dying, and the road was his only hope of rescue.

The trees were thinning. I could smell man again. Real man; faint, but better than rotting leaves. And suddenly there were no more trees, just the long horizon of the road stretching out. A filly-man stood alert, startled by us. There was something about her. She was safe. I felt a thrum through me as my man's dying brooch thrummed in resonance with her. Yes. She was safe.

My legs felt as weak as a new foal's. I could hardly stand for fatigue. My companion fell from his saddle and I saw two black arrows sneering evilly at me from his back. You failed. We told you you would. He dies now. No. Not my companion. Anything but that.

They were talking together, my man and the filly. What were they doing? The filly approached me. I didn't want her near me; she was reaching for my man's sword, but caught hold of my reins when I tried to run again. She took the blade and stabbed it into the earth. An oath; she was promising my companion something.

I could feel the life leaving him, his breath stuttering and fading. He was gone. My Rider was gone. I had failed in my duty. The filly picked the brooch off his chest and pinned it to her own. I heard the Patron and His Rider on the wind and the breath of all my Rider's predecessors welcoming the filly to their ranks. She's your charge now. Don't let her die too. She took my reins and walked beside me along the road. She said something to me in a kind, pitying voice, but it only made me miss my companion even more. I couldn't help looking back, but his body was already hidden by trees.


	2. Red Wing

I paced steadily through the rancid town. It smelled of disease and rotten mud. My companion did not like it in this place and nor did I. None of the king's Riders or their horses did. I remembered when we would fly through the town so fast the people would not even know we had passed. Now I had to trudge through the fetlock deep sludge that smelled of pig sties. I was not the only one unhappy about it. My companion was looking for someone, but had not had any success. She mounted and turned me away to the south. Finally we were leaving!

She patted my neck and promised me a rest away from the mouldy stables here, and I bobbed my head at the prospect.

Still, we left at a walk, and I stretched out my legs to walk as fast as possible. My companion did not want to run, but I did not want to linger. I could tell she was caught up in thoughts both mundane and with her gift.

A group of people were gathered around a central figure ahead. She called out to my companion, and I felt her tense in the saddle. My nose wrinkled at these two-legs. They were dirty, and I needed no guidance from my companion to sidestep them and speed away. She muttered to me about them, and I agreed with the tone of her voice.

Tension dropped away from my companion's seat like the winter colours of a mountain hare when we left the confines of the stinking town. The forest was ahead, and the sounds and smells welcomed us into its soft green belly.

But there was something wrong with the forest smell. Part of it was too sweet, rotten and decayed like something dead. It came from a shadow man on a grey stallion. A rush of hooves sounded in my head with a warning neigh. The Patron! He was warning me against this man, and every nerve in me balked against him, my ears pressed flat at his stench. Danger!

My companion could not sense what I could, and so she asked me what was wrong. The road was not wide enough, and she held me in, confused. Every sinew in me screamed at me to fly, but my companion walked slowly passed, and greeted him the human way. But he was no human, and his stallion had been halted.

Thinly veiled whispers reached my ears, a dull mocking that filled me with terror. Doomed, they murmured, you and your precious companion will not see another night. You are doomed. One of his arrows was drawn from the quiver, and it sniggered at me, the cold sweat collecting on my chest and foaming on my neck. My companion whispered something in horror. I needed no encouragement. The forest! Arrows were no good amongst trees.

I plunged away, legs pumping faster than ever they had before. My companion crouched light in the saddle, letting my back flex as I tried in vain to outrun that grey horse. He carried the dead tree smelling man like he was a feather, and kept up even though I swerved and pulled away as best I could. His hoof beats mirrored my own, pounding as my heart threatened to burst inside me.

Fly! For duty and for life, fly! The ground veered downslope, and there was a marshy patch at the bottom. I leaped through the tangle of brush, not even feeling the thorns scratch my legs. My only thought was escape.

Those arrows were upon me again, muttering and cackling with their haunting songs. Give up, they said, let go of what is futile. She will die, and you will die. Give in. I felt my legs tiring. Yes, to stop would be easier. Then two sounds at once blazed in my ears. The Patron roared out as the arrow hissed through the air.

Sudden blind pain boiled through my neck, stopping every muscle. I tripped and fell, unable to breathe, screaming out at the agony and injustice. I failed. I failed! The world span as I tumbled. My neck snapped. My body lay still though my ethereal form studdered to its feet. I stood, blowing hard with shock. There was my companion, still living, but barely; and the shadow man, now brilliantly coloured like rainbows, but still smelling of taint and decay, drawing one of those terrible arrows. It would hold her.

With sudden rage I plunged forward and into him, but nothing happened. My hooves did not pound against unnatural flesh. The horse had not even moved. How could he stand to bear a rider with that stench! Maybe he was a thrall too.

A twang resounded through the forest and my companion doubled over, a black shaft sticking from her chest. I roared and reared away, unable to do anything for my Rider except stand defenceless. A figure appeared beside me as the rotten carcass raised a second arrow. The man was a Rider, like mine, and there were herds of them behind him. He soothed me with his words, promising to help her stay with them.

The second shot hissed through the air and hit into my Rider's chest. Two arrows to enslave her. The ghost man beside me called out and so did the others, beckoning her, encouraging her. She came, though it tortured her. I whickered softly, wanting to rush at the dead smelling man, but knew it would do nothing. My companion joined our ranks, still in pain, but bearing it by holding the ghost man's hand. He was like her, with two black shafts protruding from his back. At the edge of my vision stood a huge black stallion with eyes of stars. The Patron. I bowed my head, ashamed that I had not flown fast enough to save my companion. I had not done my duty. But he breathed away the guilt I felt, and assured me I had done my best. We were now at peace, but others still had much to fear from the grey cloaked two-legs who smelled of the dying forest.


End file.
